


Suicide Without the Ropes

by fuckinghawthorne



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU, F/M, everthorne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2711627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckinghawthorne/pseuds/fuckinghawthorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thg AU where Gale goes into the arena with Katniss instead of Peeta. Most of the original plot is kept, but with a few devastating surprises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suicide Without the Ropes

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trash. I have so many fanfic ideas and my brain can't handle them all. Please bear with me! (And please review!)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything yadda yadda yadda

The morning of the Reaping is cold. Too cold for June. It's as if spring is still peeling winter's icy fingers away from itself, making room for the onslaught of summer. A slideshow of temperature, weather, and days that care little for individual lives and our dependence on its stability. I sigh from my perch on our rock, rubbing my hands together. I should have brought gloves.

"We should probably check the nets last," Gale says beside me. "I doubt there's any fish in them anyways."

"Yeah, you're probably right," I reply. I lean a little closer to him, trying to soak in as much body heat as possible. "Damn, it's cold."

"You should have brought gloves," Gale smirks, flexing his hands. I glare jealously at the woolen finger-less gloves that cover his palms.

"Very funny," I say, pushing against him lightly. "Good luck shooting properly."

Gale laughs, peeling them off of his skin. "They're finger-less, Catnip." He drops them into my lap. "Put them on."

I roll my eyes. "Take your gloves back."

"Nuh-uh," he shakes his head. I nearly fall as he stands up, bending his knees to free his muscles of the stiffness that has undoubtedly set in. "Come on. We have to be in the square by two."

I put on the gloves and stand up. "Thanks for the reminder."

He rolls his eyes. "You're welcome."

Our meaningless banter is soon abandoned as we go about our morning ritual. We move as one being in these woods, hunting, gathering, snaring. The atmosphere is tenser than usual, no doubt due to the uncertainty this afternoon brings. The Reaping is always like this. Fear, anxiety, and anger stain the air, settling deep within our lungs and choking us silently. It's so much worse today because this is the first time we both have something to lose besides each other. Prim, my little sister, and Rory, Gale's little brother, are both entering for the first time today. I try to push the thought from my mind, but I can't. The risks are too high, and the reward is nonexistent. Even if no one we love is called up the steps of the Justice Hall today, there will always be next year. And the next. And every year afterwards.

Both Gale and I have refused to let either of our sibling take out tesserae, so their odds are as much in their favor as possible. Even so, dread plants itself firmly in the pit of my stomach, settling in my body like a rock. I can't lose them. I can't lose Gale. His name is written on forty-two slips. Forty-two pieces of paper decide the fate of my best friend and most trusted companion. I can't bear to think about what would happen if any one of us were chosen. One look at Gale's clenched jaw and vacant stare as he gathers greens tells me that he feels the same way.

A few hours later, when the sun is directly over our heads and the morning frost has given way to a pleasant breeze, we stop for lunch. I sit criss-cross in front of Gale, pulling a hunk of cheese out of my bag. "A gift from Prim," I say. She made the cheese for me last night, and left on the kitchen table for me to find this morning. She even wrapped it delicately in a basil leaf, giving it a fancier look. My sweet Prim. She's inherited my mother's affection for finer things.

"Thank you, Prim," Gale smiles. He raises his eyebrows at me, and pulls an arrow from his own bag. A small loaf of baker's bread hangs from the shaft. "Look what I shot."

"Gale!" I laugh, snatching the loaf. I pull it off clumsily, leaving Gale to quickly catch the half that falls before it hits the ground. "Where'd you get this?"

"I traded it," he grins. "I guess the baker was feeling sentimental this morning. Only cost two squirrels."

"Well aren't we all feeling a little closer today," I say sarcastically.

Gale rolls a blackberry in between his fingers. He tosses it in the air. "Happy Hunger Games," he says.

I catch it in my mouth, locking eyes with him as I bite down. It's sweet tartness explodes across my tongue. "And may the odds be ever in your favor," I finish. I speak in the affected accent that everyone in the Capitol uses.

We eat in silence, but communication is not lacking. Gale and I don't even need words anymore. Our bodies are as finely attuned to each other's as our mouths are to our ears. It's a rare connection, I've learned. What I have with Gale is something that few people find with anyone else. The girls at school resent me for it, even though Gale and I have never been what they yearn to have with him. Their eyes follow him at school, and their whispers follow me. Gale and I don't care, though. Neither of us pay attention. I'm sure that things would be different if he did- good hunting partners are hard to find, and I'm not good at sharing.

Once lunch is over and our bags are full, we start heading back. I can feel my throat constricting with each step I take towards the border of the woods. When Gale lifts the chain link and I crawl on my belly under the fence, I start to panic. There is no escaping reality. We are here. This is now. And I might lose them both today.

My apprehension must show on my face, because Gale frowns when he makes it through. "It'll be okay, Catnip," he says quietly. He picks himself off the ground, and I hand him his bag. "I won't let them take either of them. Or you."

I sigh and hand him his gloves. We walk slowly through the Meadow, neither of us wanting to reach our destination. "You can't promise me that," I say. "They own us."

Gale stops dead in his tracks, grabbing my shoulder with his hand. "They will never own me," he says.

I stare back at him. "Sorry to break it to you," I say shortly, "but they do. All the way up until the day Posy is through the Reaping. Even past that."

"Posy and my kids will  _never_  be in the Reaping," Gale hisses. I widen my eyes, and punch him in the arm.

"Shut up," I hiss back. Now is not the time for one of Gale's classic rants. I regret saying anything at all. Luckily, nobody is in sight expect for the far-away Seam residents, who are standing on their porch. Even so, Gale can't keep talking. Not here. Not about this. You never know who might be listening.

"We could do it, you know," Gale tells me, grabbing my other shoulder. His eyes bore into mine with fevered intensity. "You and I, we could make it."

I know what he means but I say the word anyway. "What?"

"The woods," Gale says, squeezing me. "We can make it out there, Katniss. I know we can."

I sigh. "Gale-"

"No, you're not listening," he presses. "Think about it, Catnip. You and I? The woods? Freedom? All we've ever wanted, and we can have it. I know we can."

I pull away from him, and his face falls. "We have too many kids," I say. "It's not gonna happen, Gale."

He collects himself, dropping his arms to his sides. His face returns to the stoic mask that he wears within the confines of our District. "I can't think like that."

I scowl, brushing by him to continue through the Meadow. "I'm never having kids," I mutter.

Of course he hears me. "I might, if I didn't live here," he says, keeping pace.

"But you do live here."

He huffs. "I know. But if I didn't."

I let the matter drop. We walk into the seam in silence, stopping when we reach my house. "See you in the square," I say halfheartedly.

"Wear something pretty," he says flatly.

I sigh for the millionth time today as I ascend my porch steps. I brace myself for what I'll find inside. I have to be ready to leave in less than an hour, judging by the sun. When I open my front door, I'm immediately greeted with a sight I didn't ever want to see.

Prim is in her Reaping clothes.

Rather, Prim is in  _my_  Reaping clothes.

"Katniss!" she greets me. Her mouth is morphed into half-smile, half-frown. Anxiety has made it's home in all of her features, including her voice. Our mother stands behind her, smoothing her hair.

"Hey, guys," I say, trying my best for a smile. Prim looks so grown up. This horrifying rite-of-passage that is the Reaping reminds me just how big my little Duck is. It's disconcerting, how fast time flies.

We make small talk through the door as I take my bath. I only do it for Prim's sake. She needs to hear my voice just as much as I need to keep her out of the square today. The latter is impossible- so I may as well make the former a reality.

At one-fifty p.m., we exit my front door. Prim grasps my hand tightly, just as hard as I'm sure she's grasping my mother's. The dirt road is flooded with families like ours, gripping tightly to each other's bodies as if it'll keep the Capitol from tearing them apart. Once we reach the square, it's even more of a mess.

I hastily say a goodbye to my mother as the growing number of bodies start pushing us apart. Prim cries out as well, but her tiny voice is lost in the crowd. I lock my hand around hers, refusing to let her separate from me. Once we get through the finger-pricking, I'm forced to lead her to her section. Twelve year old girls swarm together, creating a tiny sea of underfed bodies and small voices. It's so unfair that they have to be put through this. They're so young. So fragile.

It takes every ounce of willpower that I have to leave Prim behind.

I take my place just as the anthem starts. My eyes scan the ground, and I find Rory exactly where I thought he would be. His chest is puffed out and his chin is high, no doubt trying to impersonate his big brother's demeanor. I tune out the noises around me and focus on his face. I can't quite tell from here, but I think his lower lip is trembling.

I look for Gale next, and the pit of dread in my stomach tightens. He's there, alternating between looking at Rory, Prim, and me. I give him a tense nod, and he returns it slowly.

The mayor is speaking now, droning on about the history of Panem. It's not anything new- even Prim already knows all of this information. The Capitol's expensive cameras drink it in, however.

They're big on tradition.

Effie Trinket takes the stage next. She rises from her metal chair, and walks daintily up to the microphone. She starts talking about the glory of the Capitol and reiterates the importance of the Hunger Games to our survival. "It is is the glue that holds us all together," she grins. Her pastel pink wig waves in the wind. "Without it, we are nothing."

I let my eyes wander, drifting to the two victors that sit behind her. Neither of them will speak today- victors never do. They're still forced to sit there on that stage, just as they did the day they were reaped. Effie calls them to stand with an overabundance of enthusiasm.

"Haymitch Abernathy!" she cries, clapping dramatically. The middle-aged drunk staggers to his feet, staring grimly at the crowd. I've seen him around in the Hob. Gale says that he even traded with him once, a few days after our father's died. A real asshole, according to him.

The crowd gives it's obligatory attempt at applause, and Haymitch drops back into his chair. The look on his face makes it clear that he'd rather be curled up with a bottle right now.

"Peeta Mellark!" Effie says, clapping loudly.

There's even less applause for him. The young blonde stands stiffly, his face a blank canvas. Our newest victor as well as Panem's. He won last year at the age of fifteen. He was in my class until his Reaping, where not even his own brothers tried to save him. Familial love only goes so far on Reaping day, as Peeta found out.

All too soon, Effie's voice worms it's way back into my mind and her lips spit out the dreaded: "Ladies first!"

Oh god. Here we go. I cross my fingers and even my toes as I stare up at that ridiculous pink wig. The silence that's been pressing itself upon the district drives us into the ground, and her next two words drive into my very soul.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

Time stops. The world shifts. My mouth falls open.

"NO!" I scream, just as Prim whips her head towards me. "Prim!"

"Katniss?" she says. Even as far away as I am I can still hear her say my name. I can still see her take that minuscule step towards the podium.

My brain can only comprehend a single thought.  _Not her. Never her._

I don't know what I'm screaming next, or what direction my feet are running, but the crowd is parting for me and I throw myself in front of my sister, arms outstretched. "I volunteer!" I hear myself yell. "I volunteer as tribute!"

The crowd collectively gasps. Nothing like this has ever happened in all of our history as a District. Effie Trinket looks besides herself with excitement. She beckons me onto stage, grinning maniacally. "I believe we have a volunteer!" she says.

Prim wraps herself around me, clinging to my body as if her life depends upon it. "No!" she cries. Tears choke her just as the air is choking me. She fights with all of her strength to pull me back, and I can feel the thousands of eyes upon us widen in excitement.

I will not be a show for them.

"Prim, let go!" I say, harsher than I meant to. I rip her hands away from my body, and before I can comprehend what is happening, Gale is here.

"Up you go, Catnip," he says. He fights to keep his voice steady as he scoops up my sister. "Let go, Prim."

"No!" Prim screams, but I'm already ascending the steps. Effie Trinket practically dances over to me, extending a manicured hand to pull me up the stairs.

"Well, well, well," she says. "I'll bet my buttons that was your sister, wasn't it?"

She shoves a microphone in my face, and the cameras greedily blink at me. I simply stare. Prim still howls for me, her voice echoing throughout the square. Gale fights to return her to our mother, who's standing with her hands over her mouth.

Effie says something that she only takes to be funny, because her bubbly laughter tumbles out of her mouth and rings in my ears. "We must move on," she says. "Now, for the boys!"

I turn my head to look at her, watching her heels click toward the boy's bowl. I resist the urge to puke as she claws a single slip of paper out.

"Rory Hawthorne!"

My world shatters.

A few from the Seam audibly cry out. They know us. They know the odds of this happening. They know the impossibility of our situation.

But it happens anyway.

My eyes fly to Gale, who stands on the sidelines. His arms are still wrapped around a distraught Prim, who buries her face in his chest. His face is set in a horrified expression that I know mine was in just moments ago.  _Not him. Never him._

Below me, Rory takes a few shaky strides towards the stage.

"Rory?" Gale calls, and my heart breaks just as his voice does.

"Gale, i-it's okay!" Rory says.

"R-Rory!" I cry. I take a few aimless steps in his direction, but Effie's hand pulls me back.

"RORY!" Gale screams, and this time he's the one who sprints to the front of the crowd. Prim latches onto him for dear life, clinging to him as he runs.

"Gale, no!" Rory cries, but Gale's already in front of him. Prim jumps off and runs to me as Gale throws his arms in front of his brother.

"I volunteer!" he yells at Effie. "You- I-" his voice is cut off as Rory drags him back. "I volunteer!"

There's complete and total chaos.

Prim lunges up the steps, but not before two Peacekeepers grab her and hold her back. I recognize one of them as Darius, a redheaded young man who holds Prim gentler than the other.

"Let go!" I scream, breaking free of Effie's grasp. I nearly fall down the steps in my haste to get to her. Below, both Gale and Rory stop wrestling and rush to Prim's side.

"You fucking bast-" Gale says through gritted teeth. He lunges at Prim, trying to drag her away. "Let her go!"

I scream at Gale to stop, to not touch them, but it's pointless. Rory pulls Prim out of the fray as Gale is punched in the face by Darius' companion.

"Rory, get out of here!" I order, waving him away. He and Prim cling to each other, watching in horror as Gale swings at the man who punched him. "Gale!"

His head snaps in my direction the moment his fist connects with the Peacekeeper's helmet. It skids off of the hard plastic, knocking the Peacekeeper off balance. Both he and Darius fall to the ground, taking Gale with them.

The crowd stares at us in shock, shuffling their feet and murmuring to each other in fright. A few fingers are pointed, and loud gasps fill the air.

I ignore them completely.

I reach through the mass of flailing limbs and pull Gale upright. He stands up, leaning on my heavily. Blood pours out of his nose, and oozes from a cut he got from slamming his head on the ground. His grey eyes meet mine, full of rage and tears. He holds out his hands helplessly, as if he's still trying to grasp onto time and pull it backwards for us.

"Get up here!" I hiss, pulling him with me.

Peacekeepers swarm us from all sides, pointing their guns at our backs. Gale wraps his arms around me as we're ushered up the steps, and then thrown apart. They take their positions behind us, still pointing the guns.

Effie Trinket's smile has turned into a mask of utter shock and horror. She looks between Gale and I as she tries to compose herself. The cameras zoom in on her face.

"Well!" she says. I can tell she doesn't know what to say next. I look at Gale, who stares right back. Blood drips onto his shoes and stains the front of his shirt. Both of us are breathing heavily.

The crowd's murmuring dies down completely, replaced by a terrified silence. Nobody's ever seen anything like this before. Such an open display of rebellion must surely lead to an immediate execution. I wipe my eyes and stare at Gale, holding my breath.

_Don't shoot us,_  I think.  _We didn't mean for any of this to happen. Don't shoot us._

A pregnant pause fills the air. I brace myself for the inevitable gunshot- hoping against hope that when Gale and I die, they redraw the names and Rory and Prim still get to live.  _Please,_ I think.  _Let them live. Let them live._

"L-ladies and gentleman," Effie says breathlessly. The Peacekeepers return their guns to their holsters with a uniform click. I nearly faint. "I present to you District Twelve's tributes for the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games!" Effie quickly asks us for our names, and I say mine robotically, still staring at Gale. He looks at me incredulously.

"Your tributes!" she cries, throwing out her arms. "Katniss Everdeen and Gale Hawthorne!"

Haymitch Abernathy is the only one in all of District 12 who claps.


End file.
